


Let Me Be Your Mirror (help you see a little clearer)

by DREAMi_Girl



Category: Deadpool (2016), Spider-Man - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Deadpool being Deadpool, Disabled Character, F/M, Fluff, Frenemies, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Torture, Physical Disability, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Questionable Role Models, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Superpowers, Teenagers, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:15:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DREAMi_Girl/pseuds/DREAMi_Girl
Summary: Life sucks and then you die. Mickey can attest to that. Commercial breaks though - those aren't so bad.





	Let Me Be Your Mirror (help you see a little clearer)

There’s a new kid in the mansion.

 

Mickey can see him wandering the halls from her hiding place in the bathroom, dark eyes peeking out the crack of the open door.

 

Pale face, long dark hair… and a cloak?

 

(Alright then.)

 

It seems that the Professor found another teenager to add to his already volatile brood. And the reliability of the kids’ states wasn’t completely endangered by just Mickey.

 

She had her basket full of problems, but next to Scott and Jean’s persistent, flirty dance around each other…

 

That had the potential to be explosive.

 

( _Hah, explosive…_ )

 

The new kid was moving closer to her hideout, but he hasn’t noticed her yet.

 

Good.

 

Mickey has a headache today and she’s not in the mood to introduce herself yet, manners be damned. Storm and the Professor will get over it.

 

She tugs the door shut again when she’s sure the new kid isn’t paying attention.

 

Darkness surrounds her again and the throb at her temples eases a bit. Mickey’s locked herself in the bathroom often enough to make her way in the dark without a single stumble (on a tripping hazard’s behalf anyway – physical exhaustion and weakness though…)

 

The bathtub has been converted into a nest of pillows and thick blankets of the baby soft variety.

 

Having her head hurt like a bitch was bad enough. If she had to handle scratchy blankets catching and rubbing unplesantly against her overly sensative skin on top of that… it would be enough to make her cry.

 

Mickey can’t help but look towards the mirror over the counter as she climbs back in the tub.

 

It’s a reflex she never can seem to fight. Like looking up when someone new walks into a classroom and everyone turns to look whether the person is there for them or not.

 

Her eyes haven’t fully readjusted from her peek at the newcomer in the hallway, but she doesn’t have to see her reflection to know what’s there.

 

A face like a broken doll put back together with clumsy hands stares solemnly back at her, eyes dark with more pain than pigmentation.

 

Having the room dark was helpful for her head (and in more than just the literal sense).

 

( _Probably better the kid doesn’t see me anyhow. Wouldn’t want a monster scaring him out on his first day now, would we?_ )


End file.
